


Justice Boyfriends

by twigwig



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Drugs, M/M, Swearing, TW: Drugs, drug lord, secret agents, secret spy, survey corps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 04:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2415368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twigwig/pseuds/twigwig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean and Marco are both undercover agents, (although one is more so than the other), and a new drug has surfaced. Both are on the case, and both are telling this story.</p><p>CURRENTLY ON HAITUS<br/>Alright! I've got my motivation back but now......I'm in the middle of my AS exams. My first one is tomorrow, so iIreally should be revising instead of typing this. But once they're done (02/06/15 is my last one) I'll be back to writing this. I know its been a while, and if someone cares about this fic I'm incredibly sorry, but I've got a lot planned so that should make up for it</p><p>Twitter: @jellypug_<br/>Tumblr: jelly-pug</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caffeine (Jean)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco meet, even if Jean was a dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there peeps what up. Hoping to keep this going and make it an actual good thing, might get into like a rhythm of updating or something if people like it, idk. Anyway please enjoy woo.
> 
> Twitter: @jellypug_  
> Tumblr: cumberbizatch
> 
> Edit- this story is going to be formatted with both Jean and Marco narrating, each taking turn. There might be some exceptions sometimes where one gets two chapters in a row, but I'll put the narrator in brackets in each chapter title.

My name is Jean Kirstein, and I'm an undercover agent. Well, not officially. I work as part of a team, and my role is normally undercover work. The jobs we take tend to be seedy, backstreet, passing money behind coats kinda stuff. There's me, and seven other people (I'll introduce you to most of them later). Our current job is probably the most morally grey of them all. A new drug is rising, and it goes by the street name 'titan'. It completely obliterates the body’s defenses, dose by dose, until after about three uses almost anything can kill you. Literally anything; one guy's official cause of death was drinking water with some bacteria in it. Now, you see, we're working to get rid of this drug. Righteous, huh? Kinda. We work for a drug lord, people call him King, and he finds this titan drug highly alarming because it's 'thinning out his customers.' So we're getting rid of a drug, to save some guys drug dealing business. Just call me Jean the motherfuckin' hero.

 

* * *

  

“Next please,” I called, voice ridden with agitation. _God._ How fucking _hard_ can it be to just keep the line moving? Very, apparently. Murmuring apologies and throwing tarnished change on the counter, an order for a caramel frappuccino was spoken in my general direction. “Hey,” the guy looked over, his freckle smattered face looked like it belonged to a dead man walking. “You sure you want a coffee?” He cocked his head at me. Jeez. “You look kinda wired, like you’ve had too much caffeine. And, no offence dude, but you look tired as hell, maybe you should just get some sleep instead.” Frantic head shaking.  
“No. No, I can’t. Too much important work to do. Thank you for caring though.”

I finished making his frappuccino and pushed the mug over the counter, already calling for the next customer. Freckle face made his way over to the same spot as he was in every day, the cushy couch in the corner, and pulled out his laptop and began furiously typing. His short brown hair fell forward into his eyes, his hand coming up to sleek it back while he continued typing one handed. He was a couple of inches taller than me, meaning he was slightly hunched on the short couch, his knees coming up higher than they should. Every now and then he’d stop typing, sit back, look around, and sip his frappuccino. When he did that, every part of him relaxed, his whole body sinking into the couch, like all that mattered was his mouth and that cup. Every time he sipped, his eyes would flutter closed, savouring the taste, before snapping wide open again and going back to his typing. Dude was definitely on some strange sleep deprived caffeine high.

Now, before I go any further, I’d best explain some things. That undercover work? I was a barista. Glamorous, I know. Word had it that the guy selling titan makes his deals in this coffee shop, what with it only ever having a few customers at once and baristas who couldn’t care less.  My job is to keep an eye out for ‘suspicious characters’. All we know is that he’s a man. We don’t know what race, age, height, anything. I’m just looking for a suspicious dude, while everyone else interrogates all the homeless, drug users, rejects and misfits that hear all sorts of things during their time on the street. Sasha and Connie, on the other hand, got to do the _interesting_ undercover work. They’re drug addicts (like it’s hard for them to pretend, I swear at least Connie does weed), and they’re out on the streets trying to find this guy by posing as a potential customer.

Back to freckle face. He’s a regular here, ordering a Wi-Fi code every morning along with several coffees throughout the day. My ‘boss’ absolutely loves the guy, says he’s the main source of income. Apparently he started coming in a few weeks ago to work on his new romance-fantasy novel, says the atmosphere is great and calm for working in. What’s the relevance of all this? I don’t believe it one bit. Every two or three days, someone comes in and talks to him. They exchange conversation in hushed whispers and the visits are always short. In order to keep a low profile, I’ve got to avert my eyes a lot, so I’m not sure whether they exchange anything yet, but I’ll get there soon. Next time, I’m not holding back on looking. I’m certain this is our guy.

 _Ding ding_. Some guy walked through the door, he was pretty short. Around five foot I’d say. Black hair parted down the middle, with strands of hair dangling around the top of his tired, almost drugged up looking eyes. Freckle face had also looked up, a flash of recognition on his face, almost unnoticeable. Shortie walked over and sat down. Whispering, they hurriedly exchanged conversation and _something else_. It was very discreet, this guy was good, but something _definitely_ passed between them. I pulled out my phone, doing my best to hide my triumphant look. Now all I had to do was wait for him to leave. Although I must admit, I was kinda saddened that freckle face was our guy, the ladies sure will be missing out on this one.

 

 **J: think i found him. gonna trail him when he leaves  
** **R: good. let me know if u want back up**  
 _Side note: Reiner (R) is the boss of the team, keeps the operation running smoothly along with his lackeys Annie and Bertholt._

 

The light was dim and the air had become bitterly cold by the time he stopped typing. He was the only one here, so the manager told me we were gonna close up early and I could leave. Thank goodness. I waited by the door, as a courtesy. You can’t leave the shop before the customers do, surely? Also I wanted to stalk him, there’s that too. “G’night,” I said cheerily as he passed. Might as well lull him into false security before I shatter his world. The bell rang softly into the quiet winter evening, followed by the sound of his footsteps clapping against the pavement. Freckle face seemed rather rushed today, making it rather difficult to keep up but keep quiet. He wound through the streets, residential areas unfortunately, until eventually he took a sharp left into a back alley. Perfect.  
“What the-,” I growled at him, cutting him off, one hand on his throat and the other pinning his arms to the wall of the alley. His pupils dilated, fear brimming within his deep doe eyes. His freckles began to disappear, red flush creeping across his face hiding them. I loosened my grip, didn’t want to kill the guy. We did need information, after all.  
“Tell me your name, and tell me why there are people constantly visiting you in the shop.”  
“M-,” he spluttered, struggling to speak. “Marco. I am a government agent and if you don’t let me go this instant you _will_ be facing serious consequences.”  
How cute, he was trying to stand up to me. I wasn’t having it. He’d have to give more information if he wanted me to believe him, and that’s exactly what I said.  
“I’m investigating the release of an extremely illegal and dangerous drug in this area. I am with the survey corps, and my superior is Levi Ackerman.” Confusion flashed across my face, and he clearly picked up on that. “Let me go this fucking second, tell me why you attacked me, and I promise you you’ll be fine.”  
I must admit, I was impressed. He might have been shit scared – I could see it in his eyes – but he held his own. I released his throat, checked freckle fa- sorry, Marco, for weapons before reluctantly letting his hands go. We stood in silence for a few minutes, Marco sipping water and rubbing his throat. Oops.  
“I’m investigating the drug too,” shit. Did I just say that? Shit. “But my team isn’t official. We were hired privately.”  
I looked down at my hands, trying to act nonchalant. I just told him I’m investigating titan. What the hell, Jean? You don’t even have proof the guy is trustworthy! I could feel Marco’s glare boring through my soul. I’d probably really pissed him off… but I guess I had slammed him into a wall by his throat. I finally glanced up, but froze when I realised he wasn’t actually glaring at me. “You’re not mad?” He shook his head, looking me up and down, explaining that he got it and it made sense to take him by surprise if he was a suspect. I felt kinda uncomfortable; I wanted this stupid freckled man to yell at me. Not get sympathetic and study me.  
“Hey,” he muttered. “You uh, you wanna get something to eat? My treat. We’ve got a lot to discuss.” What the hell? I told him he looked dead this morning, slammed him against a wall nearly choking him, displayed vast amounts of distrust, and was generally not too nice and he wants to ‘discuss’ things over food? I nodded though, not gonna pass up a free meal. Plus, what’s the harm in worming some information out of him. Might even make myself a government contact. That’d either impress or seriously annoy Reiner. Either way, I’m going to be full and happy.  
“How about McDonalds?” I suggested.  
“Nah, too much salt, too greasy,” he scrunched up his nose. “Burger King is better.”

 

* * *

 

 

Marco was right. Burger king _is_ better. Less grease, less salt, more actual burger. It was a Sunday night, so hardly anyone was around. That meant we could talk freely, no one could hear us. It also meant that all my attention was focussed on _him_. Awkward. I hardly knew the guy, and all we had to look at was each other. I decided to check him out. Not, like, in a gay way, I don’t swing that way. Just getting to know the fella a bit better. I could see his mouth moving, forming words, but as I slowly zoned in I realised it wasn’t about titan, it was just ramblings about how he thought the weather was nice lately, and how the pastel sunset reminded him of his rose garden. Thinking of the sun just made me notice the light golden specks scattered in his brown eyes. They seemed to sparkle as he spoke, especially when his tone became more enthusiastic. He slowly picked at his fries, continuing his rose-laced speech as he ate.

“Gosh, I’m sorry. I got carried away there, didn’t I?” He laughed softly, nervously. “I was just trying to make small talk, didn’t mean to ramble so much. Here I go again!” I didn’t really care, it was nice knowing the guy was a real person and not just some government zombie. He then continued, starting to explain his side of the story…

_So, it all started about a month, month and a half ago. My superior, Levi, I mentioned him earlier, right? Someone higher up than him sent us a case file marked urgent. A new drug called titan had been released onto the market, and it had been showing signs that it wasn’t just a new drug like cocaine or meth. This had patterns of being a test run._

“A test run?” This was new information. I leaned forward, listening more intently than before.

_We don’t know what for, all we know is that the deaths are getting quicker and more violent by the day. As if they’re honing in the recipe and giving people a new version that induces stronger effects than the last. It could be for anything, for a simple personal vendetta, for a new poison to sell, or for a large-scale attack. We’ve got our scientist, Hanji, working on antidotes and drugs that help quell the addiction. She’s got her ‘lab rats’ Sawney and Bean out on the streets constantly collecting her new samples so she can keep up with the development of the drug._

At the mention of those names, Sawney and Bean, I choked. Sasha and Connie had mentioned them, said that lots of people pointed her to them, saying they were the only real regular buyers. No one was sure what they did with the drug, since they were both still alive and not showing addictive behaviour. Guess we knew the answer to that now, though. Marco looked concerned, asked if I wanted water, so I told him.

_Ah. Yeah, that won’t help. Tell them to give up on that trail. They don’t have any contact to anyone directly involved, they get it from people way down on the chain of command in this organisation._

Marco took a bite of his burger, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

 _So, anyway, where was I?_ _Oh yeah. So, Hanji is **trying** to come up with counter-drugs but she’s been unsuccessful so far. Sometimes it’ll work, but the formula is just never reliable enough. When it works, it works about 25% of the time, and by then they’ve released the new version. In fact, Sawney and Bean often came into the café to see me and update me on her research. Hanji hates working on computers, and refuses to leave her research long enough to even come see me for five minutes, you see. So they’re some of my regular visitors._

I nodded along. Interjecting, asking if it was them who came in earlier.

_No, that was Levi._

Levi? That short, grumpy guy was Marco’s superior? No way. No. Way. Marco was too charming, a social genius, surely he should’ve been positioned above some pissed off short dude. Marco has the charisma and passion for leadership. This Levi guy just looked like someone who’d had a bad day at the office and wanted to get drunk.

_….I was in a such a rush, not sure if you noticed. Hey, you listening?_

Oops. “Zoned out.”

_Right. Short story; I had to get back to headquarters quick. Urgent development in the case. But I’m sure he’ll understand why I’m not there, in fact he’ll probably be glad for the new contact. We’d seemed to have hit a dead end. Although, that might have changed earlier, what with the ‘development’._

His head dropped, hand reaching for his forehead, massaging it with his fingertips. Eyes fluttering shut, a slight breath of air escaping from his parted lips, pink tongue flicking out to wet them afterwards. He looked tired, fed up. Like the weight of the world was hanging off his shoulders. Clichéd, yeah, but you’ll know what I mean if you’ve seen someone who is well and truly tired beyond belief. “You alright? Look kinda tired,” I ventured.  
“Yeah, sorry. It’ just been a long few weeks… you mind if I get your number and we continue this later?”  
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I pushed my phone across the table, number displayed. A text buzzed through a few seconds later.

 

 **Unknown: Hey! It’s me!** (✿◠‿◠)

 

“Really? Emoticons?” I snorted, of course a guy with a face like that would use an emoji like that.  
“Hey, they’re cute,” his lip protruded forward, pouting and quivering, but the gleam in his eyes quickly spread to his mouth, causing him to snort with laughter too. “I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?  I won’t tell my boss all about you yet, don’t worry, just say I’d gotten a lead that couldn’t wait.”  
Huh? _He_ was the one suggesting we keep this on the down low? I’m the one working for a drug lord. Not that he knows that yet…  
“You said you’re working privately, most privately hired investigators don’t like the government knowing about their work. I’ve run into a few over the years.” My face must have been painted with confusion for him to explain. I just nodded along; no use getting into it now, the dude was tired.

 

**Save contact as: Marco**

…. Marco. “Marco what?”  
“Bodt,” he answered.  
Kirstein, I replied. Jean Kirstein. Man, I’m trusting Marco with too much. A name can be a powerful thing.


	2. Amnesia (Marco)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter is coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few slight changes to the last chapter – the season is now winter, and I added some stuff onto the end that you’ll want to read. (I’d rushed into it, and hadn’t really planned, but that’s all sorted now!) Also, apologies for the tenses…I’ve never been very good with them but I’m trying my best.
> 
> Also, the chapters are going to start getting longer after this! Just wanted to get the two introduced before getting into lengthy stuff. Also, thanks for all the kudos I already got on my first chapter! :-)
> 
> Twitter: @jellypug_  
> Tumblr: cumberbizatch

Hi there! Marco Bodt here. I suppose Jean didn’t explain much at the start; we’re both telling this story. We are both involved after all. Before we get into what happened next, I’m going to tell you a bit about myself.  
My family live in the valleys in Wales. My 2 sisters Georgie and Lucy, and my mum and dad all live together in a little cottage. It was really cramped so, being the eldest, I moved out as soon as I could. Which just so happened to be when I went to University. I got a placement on a criminology course in the University of Trost. From there, I got a job in the police department where I worked my way up to where I am now.   
At the moment, I’m living in the heart of the city. It’s about a 15-minute walk from my apartment to either the café or the base, but they’re in completely opposite directions unfortunately. It’s a cute little place, I suppose. It’s not in a loud part of the city, despite us being right in the centre. My window overlooks a park, one of the only places where you can breathe vaguely clean air in Trost. There’s a beautiful cherry blossom tree looming in the centre of bright flower arrangements and bushes. I’d often go down there when I was feeling down or stressed, and just let it all drain away. It’s strange, really. You start to feel crowded, herded in when you live in a city. Like you’re trapped, not like you actually chose to live there. Getting back to nature, even only slightly, is so therapeutic.  
I work in the government now, as you already know. I was taken into the Survey Corps unit about a year ago, and we take on the jobs that directly affect the wellbeing of society. For example, a few months ago Erwin discovered and had to shut down a rising “super” organisation. Like in the films, a big evil organisation looking to take over the world. Yes. They really do exist. We’re a secret (oops) unit, which is why you won’t have heard of us before. I’m only allowed to tell you this now because we got disbanded and all contracts of secrecy became void in the process.  
Our current job came from higher up. Paper work that just got filtered down through the ranks until it hit Levi’s desk. For some reason it caught his attention, so now we’re trying to hunt these guys. I don’t know how Jean discovered the drug. We haven’t come across anyone outside of the drug society that has heard of it, so it should be interesting to find out who he’s working for. Speaking of Jean, I imagine he didn’t describe himself. You’ll find he’s like that, always focussing on everything but himself. He’s got this snazzy little undercut, the top a bleached blond mop and the shaved parts a deep chestnut brown. His face is long, sort of like a horse, but not in a bad way. He’s… handsome. Now that’s all out of the way, lets get back to the story.

“Jean,” I rolled the word around my mouth. He’d pronounced it softly, and it sounded French. I was never good at French in school, and a slight flush spread across his cheeks when I’d first said it. Clearly I needed to practice saying it so I didn’t embarrass him again. A slight buzzing reverberated through my back pocket, ‘Levi’ flashed across the screen. I could hear his impatient finger tapping and see the vacant and bored expression in my mind as obscenities ghosted across his lips. I should probably pick up.   
“About time you picked up. Where are you, Bodt?” Sigh. I hate it when he calls me that.  
“It’s Marco. I’m your colleague, not a soldier. I just got onto the bus, I’ll be about 15 minutes.”  
“Good. And Marco?”“Yeah?”  
“Don’t be late again.” _Click_.

I should mention that Levi is very precise, which is probably how he got his job. This is the first time I’ve ever been late, but he doesn’t take it lightly. Everything has to be perfect and in place around him. I watched the city lights flicker by; shops all closed, the only lights escaping through apartment curtains. We passed my building. A dirty complex, but like I said, it has a fantastic view. Trost is normally a loud city, but it was a cold, dark, Sunday night, and most people seemed to be favouring the indoors. Normally I would be doing the same, curled up watching Netflix and drinking hot chocolate on my sofa in a mountain of outlandishly coloured blankets and pillows. Instead, I was on a creaky old city bus trying to type a text to Jean with my icy fingers. Screw it; I’ll call him tomorrow from the warmth of my bed. He’s probably asleep anyway. The bus slowed and came to a screeching stop, the ancient breaks being tested to the limit, and the doors creaked open. I walked with a lot more vigour than I normally would, hitting the ground running as I hopped off the bus. I nodded at the security guy, Nac. He was pleasant, and he always made light conversation with me whenever we had the time. I should really get to know him better. “Elevator is out of order,” he called after me. Great. I bounded up the stairs, muffled yelling and grumbling getting louder and louder as I got closer to the Survey Corps floor.

 “-I’m telling you, Levi, titan is _incredible!_ I’ve already sent Sawney out to get more; Bean is busy cataloguing the samples I already have.”  
“Yes, yes Hanji, I’m sure it’s fucking fascinating, but would you just print the report off to show Marco when he finally turns up?”  
“Always the spoilsport, aren’t you, Levi?” I pushed the door open; not looking forward to the look Levi would give me. But lo and behold, I got the look. The ‘ _I never thought I could be more done with the world, but you’ve managed to prove me wrong_ ’ look. Granted, he looked like that about 80% of the time, but when it was directed straight at you, it went straight to your _soul_ , man.  
“Get in here Marco, Hanji has a new development,” he deadpanned at me, sinking into his chair and crossing his legs. Hanji then proceeded to gibber at me, titan this and titan that. I nodded viciously, trying to keep up, as Levi sat in the corner sipping his tea, hand in a claw like grip around the rim rather than using the handle.  
“Ya get all that?” She breathed in heavily, reclaiming all the oxygen she didn’t inhale whilst barraging me with information.  
“Uh. Yeah, sure I did,” I replied, taking the papers out of her hand. If I said no, the whole process would just repeat over and over until Levi scolded us. I’d read over it later instead, I wasn’t in the mood to try and decipher Hanji’s crazed jibbering. I scanned it, getting the gist. Titan definitely was a test run drug. Hanji had collected enough results to get reach a pretty stable hypothesis, and that boiled down to the fact that we needed to shut titan down. Fast.

The light sound of china on china resonated through the silence. Levi stood, explaining that we still don’t know who or what they’re testing this drug for. Ultimately, that’s what we need to find out. If we can’t stop the drug, or if we can’t find the source, we need to be able to protect whatever the drug is supposed to harm. Maybe Jean could help with that. I should probably mention that to Levi. Wait. No, I shouldn’t. Levi would want his name, and I promised Jean I wouldn’t do that. I still don’t know who the guy is, really.

“You should probably head home, its getting late,” Levi chided me. “Of course, it didn’t have to be this late."  
Yes, yes, I get it; I inconvenienced you. It’s not the end of the world. The door swung open, and I bounded downstairs towards home. The bitter air nipped at my skin, a vicious breeze worming into my hair. Pulling my scarf up around my mouth, I stuffed my gloved hands into my pockets and started the walk to my apartment. With each step I took, the weather worsened. Wind whipped my scarf around, tugging at my hair. Light rain began to fall, some of it was slightly snowy in consistency. It wasn’t long until spring, but still the Great British weather threatened us with snow. Not that that’s strange; it had snowed on my mother’s birthday once. Her birthday is in June, by the way. Ah, good old Britain.

I turned to shut the door behind me, but a massive gust of wind saved me the trouble. It was late, around eleven, and the whole building was silent. I leaned back against the door, a light thud filling the looming silence. Pulling my scarf down from my face, I breathed out slowly. It had been one hell of an evening. My footsteps resonated through my body, each movement jarring through me as fatigue set in. My door clicked lightly as I turned the key, but it felt so loud in the deathly silence. Coat, gloves and scarf hit the sofa, and my eyelids began to droop. No, Marco. Snap out of it. You’ve got to write in your journal so you don’t forget. Oh. Yeah. I have a journal. See, I have an _awful_ memory. I can remember things from the previous day in frightening detail, but it just never stores into long term. So to try and counter it, I started writing a journal. That way if I forget something, I’ve got it stored somewhere. I write down everything. Events, thoughts, feelings. _Everything._

Today, I wrote about the coffee shop and everything that had happened like usual. But today was different. Today I met him. I met Jean. _‘26 th February 2015,’_ I began. I don’t consider myself as having much of a way with words. (Which is why I’m talking about how I met Jean instead of writing a literary classic.) I just write. Although, my journal isn’t just for words, it has pictures too. Photos, diagrams, sketches, doodles, anything that helps me remember. As I finished recounting our meeting, I began to sketch him. I’m not a great artist, but I’m not bad. I started with his jawline, my drawing style very angular. His hair was scruffy from running his hand through it, and his eyes tired but with that sparkle of life when he smiled. I drew him with that smile, teeth shining and eyes sparkling. I like to remember the best of people. I then began to colour it. His sandy hair, offset with that chocolate brown undercut. Soft grey eyes surrounded by fair skin flecked with a triangle of freckles just under the right of his jaw (I told you my short term memory is frighteningly detailed). He had a strong jawline that cast a shadow on his neck in the evening light. I then quickly sketched a full body so I could include his uniform. A sky blue polo top with “Kefka Coffee” embroidered on the pocket. A dark brown half apron was slung around his hips, tied with a sloppy bow at the back. He wore combat boots and black jeans that clung loosely to his legs.

I regarded my drawings sceptically. I might have to improve on them tomorrow when I’ve seen him again. Closing the book, I placed it on my nightstand. I tugged my clothes off reluctantly, plodding around in my boxers trying to find my pyjamas whilst shivering violently. Finally finding them, I pulled them on with numb fingers before heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water and lock the front door. My bed was warm, inviting, and soft. It was sky blue like Jean’s uniform, with little clouds spattered across the pillows. I sank my head into one of the larger clouds, pulling the blanket up over my head before finally allowing myself to doze off as the rain pattered against the window.

I slept soundly, peacefully, dreaming of soft grey skies and the smell of roasting coffee.


End file.
